A Quiet Man
by civetchanging
Summary: Naomasa Tsukauchi grieves for the loss of his sister under the neglect of Captain Celebrity.
1. A Quiet Man

Naomasa was a quiet man.

This was a fact that many knew, including himself. He did not weep at her bedside, nor did he cry out with anguish at the funeral. Tears were shed, but quietly, because Naomasa was a quiet man.

As a quiet man, Naomasa heard many things. And as a clever man, he knew many more. It was easy for him to recognize the voice of her employer, even when laced with emotion. After all, he had been putting his face and voice everywhere with her help. And subtle wasn't a word he knew.

Naomasa did not like to be touched. He was a quiet man. He was a clever man. And he was a private man. The hand on his shoulder, large, but unfamiliar, was unwelcome. As was the person attached. Captain Celebrity- a vain name with a vainer owner. He would have laughed, were this any other place, and any other time, but it was not. It was here, and it was now, and all he could do was blink the eyes that had cried all the tears they had.

"I did all I could to save her, you know. But nothing was to be done- with a fall like that-"

Naomasa did not hear the rest of his words. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears as a familiar wave of numbness spread from his scalp, so strong he started to feel a little dizzy.

Captain Celebrity was lying to him. Not only was he lying, but he was lying to him about the death of his younger sister.

He lunged.

Fights are funny, like that. All that's remembered is the feeling of flesh, nails digging into skin, muffled screeches, a spinning, blurring world- the feeling of his body being yanked away from the creature in front of him- hands he would later recognize belonging to Tanema and Sansa. Good men, those two, but being good would not save them from his struggling, either. He yanks himself free, once again throwing himself at the hero- and there's a crack, the sound of a nose breaking, the man desperately trying to dissuade the detective. (Fighting back would look bad on his record, he couldn't risk it.)

Naomasa was a quiet man. Naomasa was a clever man. Naomasa was private man. But now, in this moment, in this time and place, Naomasa is angry and loud and vicious, tearing and ripping and snarling and spitting in ways that contort his face and strain his body. He feels himself being yanked away again, this time, by stronger arms, and his kicking and flailing is almost pathetic compared to the massive abdomen the massive arms have him pressed against. A murmur, and Captain Celebrity flees, while his restrainer carefully pulls him into a side room.

It is a quiet and it is a private room. Despite this, the air feels heavy in a way that suffocates him.

"Masa?" The voice is soft, and he almost doesn't notice the strong body puffing back into a bag of bones. Naomasa wants to scream and be angry, but all that comes out is a choked sob. In an instant, those arms are wrapped back around him- still thin and scraggly, but around him nonetheless. It takes a bit, before he can speak, All Might's careful whispers and rocking helping to lull him down from his frenzied state.

"He _lied_ to me, Toshi! He lied to me about Makoto!" He sputters out, almost too tired to keep his eyes open, another wave of rage wracking at his core.

"He was supposed to take care of her!" Toshinori Yagi is silent, blue eyes looking down at him with a loving weariness and familiarity that helps soothe his aching heart. The large hand strokes at black hair, and Naomasa finds his eyes drooping with exhaustion.

"It's going to be alright, Masa. I'm here for you now."


	2. Day into Night Night into Day

Naomasa couldn't remember a lot, after that. Days passed into nights. Nights passed into days. He took professional leave at Officer Sansa's insistence- or, he thinks so, anyway. It's all really a blur.

Words passed into silence. Conversations passed into whispers.

The one absolute was Toshinori's visits. Sometimes he brought food. Sometimes movies. What they did really didn't matter much, to Tsukauchi, just the presence of his beloved and the hope he brought in him.

Days passed into nights. Nights passed into days. His hair was getting longer. He didn't like it.

The mirror was his worst enemy in these days. He didn't like the shaggy hair, the hollow eyes, the five o' clock shadow he didn't trust his over-caffeinated hands to shave. Not fitting for an officer of the law. Not fitting at all.

Days passed into Nights. Nights passed into Days.

Sleeping was his second worst enemy in these days. He avoided it till he couldn't- and when he couldn't, he was wracked with guilt-filled dreams and the smell of copper. It was different every time, but somehow the same. He didn't tell Toshi about these. It was embarrassing. No, that wasn't it. Shameful, maybe. Something he didn't want to burden the hero with- he knew All Might had worse nightmares than he did, and he was already doing so much. It was only fair.

The world was not fair. Justice and judgement was in the hands of the people.

He never could forget that.


End file.
